Lucina
Asilent death.
It’s what I wanted.
The board is ripped from me, falling instantly into the hands of the current, the riptide like a rope wrapping around my ankle and pulling taut. I choke on water, pummeled by a wave that yanks me right under the surface, far enough down that the current traps me entirely.
There is no fighting a riptide, and the Veila has sucked all my fight away.
The kick of my legs is weak, the swing of my arms is frantic, and all I can feel is the hard thud of my drowning heart. I try swimming parallel to the tide like I was always taught to do, but it’s no use.
It’s too late.
My vision blurs, my chest constricts, and an ice-cold numbness spreads through my body. I watch the surface grow farther and farther out of reach, the pale moonlight blurring. Everything blurring.
The water wraps around me as I’m pulled out to sea— but it’s a familiar and sacred embrace.
A peaceful one.
A silent death.